Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

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Vox choked up.

Something this important... "Why are you giving it to me?"

"Aren't you going to find Hades? Help me return his weapon to him."

Kirkland waved his hand. In reality, this weapon was of little use to Hades. Hades, who had ascended to godhood once again, could create weapons with higher base stats than this black scythe.

But he could no longer keep the scythe. A new battle was about to begin, and Kirkland judged that he would have to sacrifice himself in the new battle, along with his entire company. His new clone was too far away to come and keep the scythe.

We might as well give it to this guy.

Kirkland realized that the Black Scythe Obituary was tainted with an extremely strong dark aura, which would directly weaken the power of this Khorne Demon.

at the same time……

"Because this was once his exclusive weapon, it will instantly attract Hades' power when it is some distance away,"

Kirkland said calmly,

"Didn't you want to go find him? This will make him notice you instantly—how about it?"

Kirkland watched as [Vox] gripped the scythe even more tightly after saying that, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his soul, corrupted by the Dark Domain, was hissing and smoking.

It seems he gave it to the right person.

"……Thank you."

"It's just a little effort."

Kirkland said that although he was initially very attached to Hades' personal items and hoped to take them back for religious purposes, Hades saw through Kirkland's idea, so Hades began to find ways to taint Kirkland with the so-called "divine items" of the Dark Realm.

Kirkland received the most bullets.

"I will... I will confront him directly, and I will deliver it successfully."

[Vox] said seriously, watching Kirkland lead him to a very simple, makeshift altar.

The winds of subspace howled in this small airspace.

The sage stepped aside, gesturing for [Vox] to stand on top.

"Good luck, and remember—Pluto always blesses every soul that is willing to pray to him."

The wind picked up.

..........................................

War itself is meaningless.

Hades realized this, especially in this galaxy, where war is simply war, nothing more.

Countless people, countless souls, countless warriors fight for various reasons and beliefs: loyalty or betrayal; division or unity; revenge or simply self-preservation; each person who raises a sword does so for a different reason.

But at this moment, for Hades...

He was simply fighting.

Just like breathing, since He became more and more aware of Himself and liberated His true self, He has been fighting as naturally as the rising sun. He has always been fighting, trapped in the center of the war, with every magnificent individual and large group trying to attack Him.

The crude, inferior replicas of space necromancers were thrown out by the swarm of insects, only to be torn to shreds in an instant. Hades listened to the breaths and pulses of the flesh just before it was shattered, and then burned these instinctive insects to ashes once more.

Tyranny thoroughly enraged Him, and their crude attempts were like trying to mold bullets out of mud and then try to shoot them at Him, assuming that He would die.

He thus loosened his self-imposed constraints and became more accepting of the resonance between the star god and the galaxy.

Hades was enraged. The swarm of insects followed him like a shadow, eyeing him covetously, lusting after his power and body. This was almost unprecedented, as Hades had always been the one to devour others since his birth.

Stars shattered, dimensions collapsed, and Hades watched with satisfaction as the swarm of insects, whose will and army were largely attached to the three-dimensional world, screamed and wailed in the palm of His hand, kicking their short legs in vain.

He felt hunger, anger, and a sense of entitlement.

He only wanted to destroy this group of Tyranids... and then He returned to His body.

In a daze, Hades heard a shrill scream in his ear, seemingly a mechanical, anthropomorphic cry from his cronies.

But the cry was too weak, so He chose to ignore it.

Despite his gnawing hunger, he was determined to completely annihilate the swarm of insects. There were just too many of them. Why were there so many?

Dimensional reduction and then dimensional expansion: crudely converting dimensions will cause information to be lost, and when they are expanded again, the energy released from dimensional reduction is not enough to support them in reconstructing will and flesh and blood.

He felt satisfied with the annihilation debris scattered all around him, but even so, the swarms of insects outside his domain continued to advance relentlessly, and even began to transform and adapt to different dimensions—a discovery that horrified Hades.

The Tyranids are far larger than He imagined—they are not merely plunderers of this galaxy, as evidenced by their ease with which they can enter and adapt to the warp; the Tyranids' biotechnology has reached the pinnacle of human imagination.

Manipulating, or leading, an entire Tyrannosaurus Rex must be something more macroscopic, more dimensional, and more difficult to understand...

Hades raised his hand, ascending, ascending, ascending again—ascending once more—He vaguely recalled the scene of his own instinctive ascension, where the Primarch was as absurd and laughable as an ant, and the sun was no bigger than a light bulb.

Ascension itself requires energy and information. It continues to rise, emerging from the surface of the water, forcibly trying to reach that dimension that can control everything.

In one dimension, Pluto glimpsed something that seemed to be weaving a long, flowing river of time.

The being was deemed harmless, so it tried to continue upwards—but stopped at a certain level.

Eternal silence reigns amidst the stars.

Hades turned his head and saw Tyrion.

More accurately, it is the will formed by the Tyranids, the beast formed by the Tyranids.

That is……

A vast number of information points, far larger than an entire galaxy, moved about. Each point was like a plump worker bee, each containing the biological information of an entire planet. They buzzed noisily, swarmed together joyfully, and crowded together happily, squeezing a full and noisy point into a small gap formed by its companions.

Liquid, a liquid representing life and energy, is squeezed among those ever-moving bees, like some kind of adhesive, or a sweet bodily fluid. It is the ceaseless reproduction and expansion of the species, rising and falling with its heartbeat or breath.

Countless endless points and liquids surged and formed it, forming a monster with endless tentacles and compound eyes, bloated and plump, because of its endless plundering and feeding.

Each observation yields a new answer; it continues to evolve, evolve, evolve, until Pluto, horrified and terrified, witnesses the ultimate form of some base desire—

Tyranny evolved from the lowest desires to the highest logic.

Its foul, nauseating, and blasphemous base desires are tightly fitted with an extremely beautiful higher logic, as if a beast and a saint have been broken apart and then cleverly merged into one, so that the saint naturally nudges the trough with his nose like a pig, while the pig grunts and utters the truths of the world.

This made all who witnessed its existence nauseous. The higher beings, who prided themselves on their nobility, never expected to have seen such a stench from their "kin."

Hades stared at Tyrion.

And Tyrion also discovered Him.

Hades trembled... and raised his scythe.

Chapter 837 [279] Tyron's Rice

The swarm finally arrived.

Descending upon the flesh and blood of the endless swarm of insects.

The Great Devourer never stops.

..........................................

"They've gone mad! They've all gone mad!!!"

Before the next saturation suicide attack landed, a scream-like hiss came from Tarazin's microphone.

The entire space necromantic fleet seemed to be tumbling in a river composed of biomass and chitinous carapaces, but every splashing drop of water was determined to pierce through the fleet, never stopping and never retreating.

It was as if some giant beast had opened its blood-red maw, spewing out its offspring, its warriors, its rivers, and that endless torrent instantly engulfed the ranks of the space undead.

The extremely high density of biomass and neural signals disrupted the communication of the space undead. Ships in the same fleet could not even contact each other. The behemoth named "Tyron" roared and tore apart all means of communication with its shrieks.

Countless Tyrannosaurus Rex with hard scales growing from the tips of their heads swooped down toward the fleet of Endless Ones, but their small, foolish eyes did not reflect the silvery-white fleet. They simply flew in a straight line toward their final destination.

The devastating blow dealt to Tarasin's fleet was merely a side effect; the giant elephants, rushing through the jungle, had no time to care whether the giant rats beneath their feet were alive.

The entire ship was rocking violently; their numbers were simply—simply too many! What surprised Tarasin even more was that among the Tyranids that flashed past its observation porthole, it discerned many even more bizarre individuals.

Tarasin had never experienced the Tyranids so directly; at this moment, the Tyranids were no longer just an entire swarm of Zerg in its eyes—

It was merely a single entity, an entity spanning thousands of star fields. It simply dispersed its body, scattering its flesh and blood, carefully sowing its cells into those new, uncultivated, fertile virgin lands, scattering seeds and allowing flesh and blood to grow.

Nerves spread upwards like tree branches, connecting with neighboring star systems. Microorganisms in petri dishes extend their tentacles toward their own kind. As the original organisms wither into fragments, flesh and bone marrow imbued with their own will are spreading across the entire galaxy.

And now, they have completely enraged this monster—no, no, no, or rather, this behemoth has finally cast its curious and greedy gaze upon this place?

It is gathering.

It is revealing a part of its body.

Tarasin had never been afraid of absolute mass before, but this time, it realized what it was about to witness: an entire galaxy filled with flesh and blood, completely filled with biomass and chitinous carapaces, stuffed with tentacles and compound eyes, like a giant fleshy creature.

That's blasphemous.

Even a star, under such a massive accumulation of biological mass, is nothing more than a flame that can be easily extinguished.

This is clearly absurd. The mass to fill an entire galaxy is too much for a space necromancer to comprehend. It's too wasteful, too trivial, and too difficult to achieve.

But there are always races in the cosmos that can achieve such a feat.

Or rather... an individual.

Those creatures that have witnessed Tyrannosaurus are far too wrong. They have only seen one of its cells and yet have made wild conclusions. In reality, they have been fighting against a single creature, a living, scattered behemoth.

Tarasin began to worry about Hades.

It had never been so worried about this old friend of the Star God. Tyron represented another kind of power, another kind of power that had risen to the extreme. Its enormous size would accumulate into an unimaginable will. This was another kind of chaos, a god's body dwelling in the chaotic realm of physics.

Tyrion may not be a god, but the madness and intellect he represents, embodies, and develops are no less than those of so-called "gods."

This is another kind of existence.

Any single, insignificant individual would likely descend into madness in the face of Tyrannosaurus's sheer size and will. The good news is that their insignificance saves them; they will never see the full extent of this behemoth, but will merely shout at the whiskers on its legs and empty their magazines.

They will be completely unable to understand it, to understand Tyron—

This is a more emotionless, more disordered, and colder creation. If a soul were to peer into the chaos, it would also receive an emotional destruction that would crush its will. But when they see Tyran, they will only see.

But that's enough to shatter a soul.

Tyrion merely exists.

It exists as a separate entity spanning thousands of star systems.

Will Pluto be the first individual to witness its full form? Or the first individual to look directly into its eyes?

Taracin didn't know, and it had no way to ask Hades directly right now.

Prior to this, Hades had only faced chaotic gods from the warp and fragments of gods within the physical world—

Now, he is facing a flesh-and-blood entity that has taken root and grown from the physical world.

Tarasin felt his risk assessment system screaming at him in fear, with red lights beeping loudly, signaling "it's over" and "run!"

Hades has enough resistance to chaos, but what about Tyrion?

Once again violently struck, the Endless was flung out of its huddled corner. Under the excessive interference of Tyrannical neural signals, the gravity system temporarily lost its original function, and the clanging and banging of Tyrannical hammering the ship sounded like an endless downpour.

The Endless One stood up and began to run. A bright red light flashed in the command room, turning the space necromancer's body blood red with alternating light and darkness. It rushed towards the command console that was still working and saw an unimaginable scene on the map.

The King of Silence has never seen a map that has been filled in.

Even if you reduce the size to the point where a Tyrannosaurus Rex is a single pixel, the map is still packed full, with each element squeezed together. From any angle, it should be described as a "solid" object.

Taracin changed its perspective and the result shocked it, yet it still appeared in the deepest, most hidden nightmares of the Death-fearing Ones. No matter which dimension it was observed from, the galaxy was still "solid".

Even across space, even across time, even across choices.

It pierced through everything with its absolute quality.

And in the very center of that mass of flesh and blood, Tarahin was startled to realize that he was trembling—

From the bottom of its heart, it had rarely been so shocked since it became a space necromancer. Perhaps it had regained a little bit of its soul (just kidding, Taracin knew of course that this was impossible, perhaps because the impact had caused a slight malfunction in one of its subtle tendrils). It trembled and readjusted its perspective to the current plane.

In that solid center, on the display screen, surrounded by countless dark purple flesh and blood, there was a large fireball with a contrasting color. The violent energy, like flames or trickles, was trying to take root, burn, erode, and extend its roots outward through the gaps in the flesh and blood.

"..."

The Endless One opened its mouth, but was speechless, not knowing what to say or do. Before being surrounded by Tyrannosaurus, it had already ordered the use of various large-scale cleansing weapons, but they were still a drop in the ocean in the face of absolute mass.

What makes it even more desperate is that these qualities are conscious; they can evolve, rebel, and even copy the technology of other races.

Tarazin swayed and shakily pulled out the diligent scientist who was conducting research from its pocket universe. The smell of pus and stench immediately filled the entire command room, but Tarazin didn't care about any of that at the moment.

[Typhons] muttered as he got up. He seemed unable to understand why Tarasin had so abruptly called him out at this time. The Nurgle cultist's eyes were still covered with all sorts of eye boogers, and he was clutching a half-finished piece of flesh and blood from Tyrion in his hand.